


Mary Sue Too!

by gritsinmisery



Series: What do you do with a Mary Sue? [2]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anachronistic, Crossover, M/M, Mary Sue, POV Third Person Omniscient, Self-Insert, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gritsinmisery/pseuds/gritsinmisery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of the Dare-fic <span class="u">Mary Sue</span>, a Fifth Doctor AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Too! for the Money

**Author's Note:**

> If you hated Mary Sue or you can't stand self-inserts (even as a joke), don't read this. D'uh.
> 
> AU set post-_Logopolis_, with no Tegan, Nyssa, or Adric.
> 
> Persephone is borrowed from Joss Whedon's _Firefly_ 'verse.
> 
> (Firefly / Serenity 'verse Mandarin lifted from [this page](http://www.browncoats.com/index.php?ContentID=42e83b412a309) at BrownCoats.com.)
> 
> The Fourth Wall is not only broken, but smashed to bits.
> 
> Jade speaks a horrid mix of U.K. and U.S. English.

“We’ve stopped.”  Jade stands in the doorway to the console room wearing her tatty pastel-striped bathrobe, feet bare, hair hanging in dark ringlets around her face because it’s still wet.

She’s right.  The time rotor’s not moving.  “Very good,” the Master replies, not bothering to look over from the screen on the console where he’s working.

Hmm.  No snarky remark about her astounding grasp of the obvious.  The game’s afoot.  “So, where and when are we?” she asks.

“This planet is called, oddly enough, Persephone.  This is the first Earth migration.”

Jade mentally references her Time Agent history lessons.  “Ho-kay, got it.  What’s the scam?”  She crosses her arms and leans against the door jam, settling in for the explanation.

The Master looks up at her with a bright, evil smile.  “The scam, as you so indelicately put it, is to start a nice little insurrection. 

“Persephone’s head of state and military leaders are from off-planet, part of the system-wide government, but the legislative body and the actual military forces are local.  The society itself is very class-conscious and insular; a few suggestions in the right ears that the system-wide Alliance views local citizens, even the pillars of the community, as second-class will be easily believed and the listeners readily insulted by the idea.  Pointing out to the right people how few off-worlders are actually in power should lead to a take-over attempt by the locals.  And if the Alliance officials get a message off before the coup is complete, well… things will get very messy.”

“And a human war, especially where the odds are very uneven, is likely to bring the Doctor,” Jade adds on what the Master leaves off.  
   
He returns to watching the screen, a slightly embarrassed look on his face.  “It was your idea, pet,” he replies.

Jade looks uncomfortable.  “Time Lord courtship is rather hard on the rest of the Universe.  Why don’t you two settle in together, instead of just bouncing off each other repeatedly in a sad imitation of Brownian motion?”

There’s a flash of anger in the Master’s eyes just before his face goes blank and bland as a mask.  “Not a topic for discussion,” he answers lowly.  
   
Ooh, did the temperature in the console room just drop below freezing?  Jade can take a hint, and switches topics quickly.  Her Time Agent training kicks in; this is what they do best.  “Okay, what’s your cover?”

“Cover?”  The Master’s brows draw together in puzzlement.  
   
“Cover story.  An insular, class-conscious society is not going to let some off-world stranger waltz into the halls of power.  If you wish to drop suggestions into the ears of ‘the right people,’ you’ll need to be in a position where they’ll listen to what you say.  That hypnotism shtick won’t work on a whole planet at once.  Now, who will you be?”

The Master tilts his head to the side and ponders.  First he thinks about how easily his pet human has accepted the situation and considers how useful she’ll be – as long as he remembers to review her suggestions for probable tricks.  Then he starts on the problem of identity she has presented to him.  He notices she’s watching him with the same look those boring old stiffs at the Academy used to use when they didn’t think he could present the correct answer.  Well Rassilon, if she’s already got it, why should he waste his time?  
   
“I suppose you have this all figured out?” he inquires imperiously.

“Pretty much, just need a couple of details.  Are you in the planetary ‘net?  Push over,” she commands as she slips in front of the keyboard and screen he’s been using.  
   
He’s been known to swat fellow Time Lords for trying to pull such a maneuver, but he relinquishes his spot with nothing but a growl.  “Mind your manners, girl.”

She just keeps typing, wrinkling her nose at him.  “Yeah, yeah.  Excuse me, Mr. Evil, please-may-I-aid-and-abet-your-dastardly-plan-thank-you.  Ah, here we go.  Yup, need a title here… Hokay, here’s how the high-and-mighty get a living on this rock… Now, which of the other planets in the system do they worry about and why?  Hmm, that one will work…  What do letters of introduction look like here?  Letters of credit?  Brilliant.  Ooh, this one’s easy.  Backwards little joint, ain’t they?  Fashions of the rich and famous…  Late 19th-century Earth but luxe; somebody does a hellava import business.  Looks like you can keep your velvet, mostly.  Oh, you’re gonna plotz – the males wear swords!” she concludes with a smirk.  She’d found the Master’s weapons room earlier while wandering around his TARDIS.

The Master stands behind her with his arms crossed, watching information flash across the screen.  He’s torn between worrying about how much damage she could do should she turn against him, and wishing he’d had her for his earlier conquests.  But it’ll never do to let her know either, will it?  “Are you quite done yet?” he sneers, as if she’s been all day about it, instead of just 10 minutes.

“Don’t get your knickers in a knot, it’s almost finished.”  She smacks one last key to generate the documentation he’ll need.  “There, Lord Saxon, is everything you need for a successful buying trip on Persephone.  You’ve taken a house in a fashionable neighborhood for the duration, and this list of items to purchase will bring you into contact with the top tier of local society.  ‘Have fun storming the castle,’” she concludes enigmatically.  “I’ve got to go dry off.”  She heads out the console room door.  
   
“What about you?” the Master calls after her.

Jade stops, but doesn’t turn.  “I can stay out of sight in the TARDIS.”  
   
“Ah no, pet.  In for a penny…  Make yourself a ‘cover,’ too.”

Her eyebrows head up for her hairline seemingly of their own accord, which she’s glad he can’t see.  He’s taking her into the field?  Well, there is an easy way to dissuade him:  “Okay, Mr. Evil…  Wife or mistress?”  
   
“Excuse me?” That slips out before the Master can stop it.  
   
Hah.  Serves him right for trying to make her part of his plan to start a war among her own species.  “They will want to know why I’m here.  A mistress will give you a certain cache with the males, but a wife can be taken to the social functions where you’ll find a lot of the networking happens.  Which do you prefer?”

The Master has a gut feeling about which will bother her more, and he follows it.  “Wife,” he says without any hesitation.  He watches her drop her shoulders and pull her back poker-straight.  A-ha.  He was right.  Wonder why that is?

“Very well, my lord husband, make yourself useful while I get dressed.  Hack into the spaceport logs and fix it so we landed yesterday.  Then move the TARDIS to the address of our domicile; preferably someplace indoors, eh?” 

Are those icicles hanging off that honorific?  The Master grins as he set the TARDIS in motion.  He has a new evil scheme and something to needle his pet about.  Won’t this be fun?


	2. Too!'s Company

The Master is sitting at a large black-lacquered desk in a room that is pretty obviously a study or library. The rest of the room is decorated in expensive-looking furniture in an odd mix of (old-Earth) eastern-Asian and western-European styles. Sunlight streams through the windows on one wall, across patterned carpets covering a dark wood-plank floor, and up the far wall, illuminating a grandfather clock and a painting of three children and two lapdogs.

He’s going through a pile of paper correspondence, checking back and forth between the pieces and a hand-held computer screen he manipulates with a stylus. While he works, he carries on a barely-audible diatribe on various subjects including the backwardness of a society that thinks using paper for formal communications makes them look special when they bloody well have computers and the uselessness of a pet that is never around when there’s something tedious to be done that really should be handled by a lesser species. He glances over for the tenth time at a teacup that is still just as empty as the last nine times he looked and mutters something about how that’s somehow her fault too, he’s certain of it.

“Is it clear?” That’s Jade’s voice, and it’s coming from… the clock. Oh hey, we’ve found the TARDIS.

“Of course, girl,” the Master responds without looking up. “You know the servants won’t come in here.”

The door of the clock, er… TARDIS swings open and Jade leans out wearing a floor-length dark green dress with a fitted bodice, lots of material in the gathered skirt and several layers underneath the skirt to expand it. Think western European circa 1870. She’s carrying a matching bonnet by the ribbons. “Of course not. You’ve frightened them half to death,” she replies. She steps down out of the clock only to stop with a jerk before she can get her second foot on the study floor. “_Ta ma de_,” she snarls as she yanks her skirts free of the door jamb.

“You’re picking up nasty habits from the locals,” he remarks absently, reaching for a new piece of correspondence. “Including, it seems, disappearing when there’s work to be done.”

Jade grins at his discomfort. “The language is part of the cover, and the mail is addressed to Lord Saxon. Do you know how long it takes to put on this get-up? I’d have been quite happy wearing my coverall and doing maintenance in the TARDIS until this whole thing is over, but you want me in the field. So -- into the field I go.” She puts on the bonnet and ties the ribbons beneath her chin. “‘Lady Saxon’ will be seen about town, and I’ll get a little research in. Now, my lord husband, if you’ll excuse me…” She starts out of the room, muttering “My lord _pi gu_, more like,” under her breath.

“Before you go, pet --” the Master calls after her. “Come here. You’ll need this.”

Jade turns to find him holding a long thin black box. It doesn’t look like a communications device, or anything else, really. Damn and blast, she’ll have to go back to find out instead of just blowing him off. “Okay Mr. Evil, what is it?” she asks, walking over and holding out her hand for it.

Instead of giving it to her, he opens the lid of the box. Inside on a short gold chain is a pendant made of green jade, carved in the shape of a fat little cat with its right paw raised, and a gold cuff bracelet inset with a matching piece of jade. They’re gorgeous. This is so wrong in so many ways, and it sets off Jade’s internal alarms immediately. She pulls her hand back quickly, as if the box held a snake.

“They’re harmless, girl,” the Master says blandly. He sets down the box and snaps the cuff around his own wrist as if to demonstrate the truth of his statement. Then he holds the pendant up to her by the chain. “A gift.” When she hesitates to take it, a glint comes into his eyes and his voice takes on a steely tone: “I insist.”

Jade hears the Doctor in her head: _He wants complete control. Needs it... Learn when to give in, Jade, or he will take you over._ She’s been pushing the line, but she daren’t risk crossing it. She takes the chain and fastens it around her neck.

There’s a tiny "whrrr" and a spot of warmth on her neck where the catch landed, but when she reaches up to feel for it, the catch is gone. She runs her fingers along the chain but encounters only unbroken links. Pushing down the panic at being locked into something, she raises one eyebrow and drawls, “More than just decoration, if I’m not allowed to take it off.”

He returns to working on the mail, seeming to dismiss her. “Merely a locator device, linked to the cuff. The cat is pressure-sensitive; squeeze it if you get into a situation.”

Bloody hell, it’s a dog collar! But there’s more than that to it, judging by his refusal to meet her eyes. Well, she’s not a mechanic for nothing; sooner or later she’ll get the damn thing off. For now, might as well set out as she originally intended. “If that’s all, then…” She turns and starts again for the door.

“Oh, girl –“ the Master calls after her once more.

Jade stops and turns. “What now, Time Lord?”

“The TARDIS translates everything.” He raises his eyebrows. “_Dong ma?_”

She rolls her eyes. “_Shi._”


	3. Too! is a crowd

Jade’s inside what passes for a bookstore on Persephone.  There are paper scrolls, there are bound paper books, and there are disks and chips.  There are electronic readers and tablets of all makes and sizes, paper stationery, blank scrolls, pens, brushes, inks, sealing wax, stamp pads, and chops.  If you want to write with it, read it, or sign with it, this store will sell it to you.

Jade, er… Lady Saxon is browsing among the reading material, with an odd smile on her face.  Every once in a while one corner of her mouth curls up even further.  What her fellow shoppers don’t know is that the little metal disks decorating the band on her bonnet and her dress sash (“Off-world fashions are really quite odd,” sniffed a nearby matron) are each a tiny parabolic antenna, and the filter / receiver is tucked in her ear.  The Master has some really fun toys; there were half-a-dozen Time Agent missions where this would have made the job much easier.  There are perks to traveling with an Evil Genius™, if one can just overlook the controlling, and the scheming, and… well, the ‘evil’ part.

She’s really enjoying the speculation about Lord and Lady Saxon, as well as picking up a few pointers on which of the various local soirees to which they’ve been invited are not to be missed, and which are not to be seen attending.  And sure enough, in low murmurs the males in the shop are discussing the Alliance’s deplorable treatment of the local leadership.  The Master’s scheme is working.

A high, whiny male voice grabs her attention.  “Honestly, I don’t see why we’re here.  We’ve been all over the planet; maybe that hunk of junk has its wires scrambled.”

Turning casually, scroll in hand, Jade discovers the speaker is a tall ginger git in a… is that an old-Earth boys’ school uniform, mid-twentieth century?  So very, very wrong for this planet.  Curious... and Jade has a problem ignoring curious.  Especially since she can neither see nor – dammit – hear the person to whom the boy is speaking.  She sets the scroll down and ‘browses’ toward him.

“This is a backwards dust-bowl, and the inhabitants are so rude they deserve anything that’s coming.”  Well, Ginger doesn’t have a very charitable view of the place, does he?  Jade knows she’s got an amplifier system, but that boy is still loud enough he’ll find himself called out if he doesn’t tone it down.  A couple of the nearby males are looking daggers at him.  And she’s not sure she’ll bother to warn him, even if he is a fellow off-worlder.

Coming around the edge of a tall set of shelves, his companion replies, “The TARDIS is never wrong about these things, and if you don’t hush, you certainly won’t like what’s coming to you.”  _Ai-ya_, it’s the Doctor!  Jade whirls, turning her back to the pair.

Well, that didn’t take long, did it?  Either for the Doctor to show up, or to get a new companion.  Yes, that’s Turlough.  Mouthy, lying, sneaky bastard.  The only really interesting one of Five’s companions, doncha think?  I mean, Nyssa was okay from a plot-exposition point of view, smart and not overly-squealing, but don’t get me started on the other three.

And how did we end up with him, if we went AU pre-Castrovalva?  Hell, I dunno… The Black Guardian works in mysterious ways, mebbe? It’s my Mary-Sue, and that’s the way it’s swinging.

The Doctor starts dragging Turlough toward the door of the shop by his jacket sleeve.  "Until we find what is wrong here we’re going to play tourist, and I’d prefer to do it without attracting attention to ourselves. So would you kindly Keep. Your. Voice. Down!” he mutters through clenched teeth.  He’s tetchy as usual, but with good reason this time.

The rest of the customers in the bookstore have been watching the exchange with a slightly annoyed air but now return to their shopping. Jade makes a show of being bored with the entire shop and heads for the door as quickly as she deems reasonable.

They’re crossing the road as she comes out of the store.  She follows them down the line of shops from her side of the street, seeming to window-shop but using her peripheral vision, their reflections in the storefronts, and her amplification system to keep track of them – not hard, given the new companion’s ongoing diatribe.  When they turn down an alley she crosses the street, sensing one of the Doctor’s usual TARDIS parking spots (if the Doctor can be said to ‘park’ the TARDIS at all.)

Standing just off the entrance to the alley, plastered against a storefront corner, she takes off her bonnet and holds it out so she can ‘hear’ down the alley.   It’d be nice if she had the same sort of toy for vision, or even just a mirror, so she could see too.

“Seriously Doctor, I hate being cooped up in here while we’re landed.  Why can’t we just leave?”  Ginger’s still whinging.  Jade doesn’t know about the Doctor, but she certainly wouldn’t want to be shut up with that rude git.  She’d be tempted to dematerialize just long enough to push him out the front door into the Vortex.

Rassilon, she’s starting to think like the Master.  That’ll never do.

There’s the sound of a key turning in a lock, and a door opening.  “It’s hot and dusty here. I’m tired and thirsty, and since you’re whining in excess of your normal allotment I’d guess you are, too. In you go now.”

Well, now she knows he’s here, and where he is.  She just has to decide what to do next.  Does she tell the Doctor that the Master is here? Does she tell the Master about the Doctor?  Does she sit back and wait for the two of them to find each other like they usually do, since that’s what this whole thing is about?  Will intervening in the usual order of things prevent the bloodshed the Master has planned?

“Jade, you might as well come in.  You look a little hot and tired yourself.”

Oh, _tzao gao._  She walks down the alley and into the phone box through the door held open by the male in beige.  The Doctor is not smiling.


	4. Ever Too!wards

Walking into the Doctor’s console room, Jade hangs her bonnet on the bentwood coat rack and heads back for the galley.  Turlough, standing at the console and peeling off his jacket, goggles a bit and follows her back.

She puts the kettle on and starts digging through the cupboards for teapot, mugs, biscuits and a plate, etc.  Turlough just leans on the galley doorjamb, goggling some more, the bug-eyed git.  When she warms the pot he finally queries, “You’re making tea?  It’s bloody hot out there!”  
   
Without turning to look she replies, “How long have you been with him?  If he said he’s thirsty, he’ll want tea.  You, I don’t know what you want, so you’ll have to fend for yourself.”  
   
“So I do.  D’y’ mind, Turlough?” comes the Doctor’s voice from right behind him.  Turlough is blocking the doorway.  He needs to learn that standing between the Doctor and his cuppa is not the done thing, doesn’t he?

Turlough rolls his eyes and moves into the room to find something cold to drink.  Sitting down at the galley table, the Doctor looks askance at Jade.  “_You’re_ making tea?”

She sets a mug and the plate of biscuits in front of him, then turns back to get the pot.  “Nothing to fear, Doctor.  It seems I’m not so old a dog I can’t be taught new tricks.”  She pours herself a mug of tea and slides the pot across the table, as well as the milk and sugar after she’s finished using them.

“How long has it been on your timeline?” asks the Doctor, stirring his tea.  
   
“About, oh… sixty cycles.  Not as long for me as it has been for you, it seems,” Jade replies, cocking her head toward Turlough.  He’s been sitting at the table between the two of them; staring at Jade like she has two heads or something.  I think he’s been trying to think of something snarky to say, but hasn’t managed it yet.

“Oh, so sorry.  Jade, this is Vislor Turlough.  Turlough, this is Jade.  She rescued me once when I got so ill I couldn’t make it back to the TARDIS.”  
   
“The rescue was mutual – I was stranded; ship confiscated, partner dead.  Much appreciated.”  Jade lifts an eyebrow and waits for Turlough to volunteer his story, and notes how he quickly takes a long drink instead.  Up to no good, is this one.

Reaching for a biscuit, the Doctor asks, “So, is that why the TARDIS brought us here?  Stranded again?  Has he left you already?”  He looks up at Jade to see her with her mug halfway to her mouth, her attention focused behind him in the doorway of the galley.  Turlough is looking that way, too.

“Quite the contrary, my dear Doctor,” says the Master.

Whoops.  Erm….  Y’know, the Doctor really ought to keep the TARDIS door locked, even when he’s at home.  Well now, it looks like Jade doesn’t have to make any of those nasty decisions any more.

The Doctor stands and whirls to face the door, ready to fling himself headlong out of the way of a TCE beam.  But the Master’s still looking at Jade.

“The signal cuts out in here.”  It’s half-question, half-statement.  She fingers the jade cat around her neck.  Suddenly she’s no longer the slightest bit warm.

His smile is bright, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Indeed.  But I had your last coordinates before it died.”  
   
Jade sets her mug down and stands.  “Thank you for your hospitality, Doctor.  I do apologize for all of this,” she says without taking her eyes of the person in the doorway, and starts out of the galley.  
   
The Doctor puts a hand on her arm as she passes, stopping her.  “You don’t have to go with him.”  Ooh, he’s going into rescue mode, all serious and fatherly.  You see some of Three in Fivey on occasion.   
   
She turns to look at him then.  “Oh, you really are nine-hundred-years thick, aren’t you?”  Leave a person with abandonment issues for the one who gave them to him?  And watch the universe go ‘foom’…  She pulls away and turns back toward the door.  “What the hell he…  Blind.  Completely blind.”  She shakes her head and keeps going.

The Master lays a black-gloved hand on Jade’s shoulder as she reaches the doorway, and she stops.  He looks up at the Doctor.  “Welcome back to the game, Doctor.  This latest round should prove quite entertaining with the new players, don’t you think?  Out you go, pet,” he finishes, and gives her a little push down the hall toward the console room.  The Doctor goes a bit squinty-eyed at that.  I’m not sure if it was the shove or the ‘pet’ that upset him.  Maybe both.  Turlough just sits there with his gob open.  
    
Jade grabs her bonnet from the hat rack and throws the lever on the console to open the outer doors.  She ties the ribbons under her chin as the Master waits at the door.  “The stiles leaning against the alley wall,” he tells her.  She’s smart enough not to mouth off something about a pile of old boards.

Three of the stiles swing open like a door, and the male in black velvet and the female in a long green dress and bonnet go behind them.  The noise of a time rotor starts up and the pile of wood disappears, leaving the alley empty except for some rubbish barrels and an odd blue shed.


	5. Too! Alive

The Doctor and Turlough are still staring at the empty galley doorway. “What the hell was that about?” Turlough finally asks.

The Doctor shakes his head. “Until today I would have said ‘revenge and sacrifice,’ but I’m not so sure any more.” He sits back down to his mug of tea, which seems to have lost its appeal. He’s looking at it, but his gaze isn’t focused.

“Ah, a Tragedy,” says Turlough. “People falling in love where they shouldn’t, trusting those they shouldn’t and mistrusting those they should. Loved ones disappearing for years at a time with no notice, messages missed or misunderstood. Everybody ends up dying, or at least living very unhappily ever after. Ugh. I hate Tragedies.” He finishes his drink in one long swallow.

“Try living one,” the Doctor replies, and downs the rest of his tea.

“Ta, no, scarred enough already,” answers Turlough. “So what’s the story on Mister Menacing? And why did Jade-the-All-Knowing get up and leave with him, if she travels with you?”

The Doctor examines the biscuit he was going to eat before the Master put in an appearance. “He’s an old classmate of mine; went a bit starkers early on. I seem to spend half my time stopping him from taking over some part of the Universe, or at least messing up some planet’s time-line. We know each other pretty well in some ways… I sometimes call him my best enemy.

“He caught up with Jade and I before I’d recovered from my illness. Jade bartered, well… her company – she’s a mechanic – in exchange for him not harming me while I recovered. So now she’s traveling with him, and it seems he’s got her involved in whatever scheme he has going on this planet. I’m rather surprised though…” his voice trails off. He sets the biscuit down, still untried.

“What?”

“The Master’s not big on allowing others their free will, but she seemed to still have hers. And just now – he looked upset, and she almost looked guilty and went along right away when he showed up. If he were looking for me, he’d have tried to hurt me when he showed his hand. If this had been a plan to put her back with me as a plant, she’d have taken me up on the offer to stay and we’d have managed it after a bit of a fuss. None of that little episode was planned, and that’s so very unlike the Master.”

The Master is behaving unpredictably. His old companion isn’t acting like a hostage, and he doesn’t trust his new one out of his sight. The Doctor won’t ask how things could get any worse though, because he knows they will.

======================

In the study of a house in the fashionable part of town, there’s the sound we all know and love – a TARDIS time rotor – and a grandfather clock appears against the wall opposite the windows. It’s a pity it didn’t cover up that wretched painting of those kids and their pooches. Can’t be picky when you lease furnished, I guess.

What should be the door to the weights and pendulum swings open, and the Master steps out after a brief glance to make sure no servants have come to check out the strange sound. He walks over to the big black desk, sits down, and starts in on the paperwork there as if he’d only stepped out of the room for a cup of tea. Oh, the teacup’s still in the same spot it was three chapters ago, and still just as empty.

Jade follows him out of the clock, er, TARDIS and walks over to the side of the desk. She stands there a few seconds. She takes off her bonnet and stands there a few more. She puts her hands on her hips, pulls a face, and stands a little longer. _Wo de ma._ The silent treatment is getting a little annoying.

“Do you want to know what happened, or would you rather just work up a nice pout imagining the worst?” She’s had it.

He stands up, slams both hands down on the desk, and leans toward her. “Do you forget whom you’re speaking to, girl?” he growls.

Crossing her arms, she clenches her teeth and says, “I’m supposedly speaking to the most evil, most intelligent member of one of the oldest and most powerful races in the galaxy, but right now he’s acting like _ge zhen de hun-dan_, and I’m beginning to doubt every one of those superlatives. Just exactly what part of this situation has your knickers in a twist, Evil Time Lord?”

He leans a little closer with every question. “How long has he been on the planet? How long have you known he was here? What did you tell him, what did you give him?” Woo, somebody’s a little stressed, ain’t he?

Jade ticks the answers off on her fingers. “In the book store Turlough said a month, but he was whinging and I imagine it’s probably only been a week or so. Ten minutes longer than you, give or take. You showed up so quickly, the only thing I told him was that it’d been about two months for me since we left him, and the only thing I gave him was his own tea and biscuits!” By the time she gets to the end of the list, she’s shouting just as loudly as the Master.

A rented servant sticks his head hesitantly into the room. “My lord? My lady?” he queries.

Two heads swivel toward the door and two voices bellow, “Tea!” in unison. The servant disappears in a hurry.

The Master stands up and crosses his arms. Rassilon. He had a righteous fury going and instead of cowering and looking guilty, she’s snarled right back while giving reasonable answers. He knows precisely how long it was from the time her signal cut out until he walked into the Doctor’s TARDIS – 5 minutes and 42 seconds – and there’s no way she had time to do much other than what she’s said. Still, he doesn’t apologize to anyone, and she might just be good at bluffing. “Lies,” he pronounces.

“Oh sweet Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Buddha, and all the saints!” Jade flings her bonnet on the desk. “I manage to stay just out of your reach for two months, now I go and do this voluntarily just because you’re feeling a little paranoid. What the hell – it was a good run. Take off your gloves.”

Well. So much for the Master’s tantrum. He just stands there, silent, blinking at her. Finally he says, “What?” Oh, silver-tongued, that one. Quick grasp of the situation, too.

“You don’t believe me? Take off your gloves; take a look. Just Another Damn Earther, remember? No defenses. Help yourself.” Jade puts her hands on her hips, stands up as straight as she can (a whacking 5 ft. 3 – she’s not a big’un) and locks eyes with him.

Will he? Won’t he?

Oh please! Evil, remember? Of course he’s gonna.

Black leather gloves join the green bonnet on the desk. She raises her chin to maintain eye contact as he steps closer to her, and he lays his fingers on her temples.

A couple of minutes later a servant comes through the study door with the tea tray and skids to a quiet halt. It’s rare to see the gentry doing anything other than bickering with or ignoring each other, and he knows better than to interrupt.


	6. Too! Feet Under

Jade comes to draped into an upholstered chair facing the desk. “What the hell?” she wonders. She’d invited Mister Evil-and-Paranoid in for a look-see, which granted was a bone-headed move, and then… Blank-brain-city.

“You passed out,” replies the Master. He’s back to the correspondence again.

“I don’t pass out.” She doesn’t. Even Time Agency mechanics get some interrogation techniques exposure. She can handle a decent chunk of pain, thank-you-very-much.

“You do when you’re encouraged to.”

“Ah. You knocked me out. Big difference.” She feels like someone’s done a slice-and-dice on the inside of her skull, which come to think of it, he probably has. “Well, I hope you feel better now, because I sure as hell don’t.”

“Hmmmm.” Sing along, friends – evil doesn’t apologize, and it doesn’t admit it was wrong. And it attacks when it feels defensive. “You did lie about being defenseless – you’ve got shields, girl. I can’t help it if getting through them was painful.” The unspoken part about how she didn’t lie about anything else? It’s gonna stay unspoken.

“There are too many telepathic races in the Universe quite happy to just walk right into an unshielded mind. No point putting up an “Open ‘Round the Clock” sign.” Jade doesn’t mention that the Doctor slid right under them without a ripple, and even pried open firmly closed off areas with no more force than to cause a wince. She’s in pain, but she’s not stupid. Besides, she doubts that the Master is that ham-fisted, er, -minded. This pain is pay-back.

“So, did you leave any nasty little surprises while you were in there unsupervised?” she asks.

“Whatever do you mean?” replies the Master. Oh, he really should work on his ‘innocent’ face. He’s terrible at that one.

“Command words, post-hypnotic suggestions… your usual stock-in-trade. Not that I can do anything about it, mind –“

“No, you can’t.” Smug bastard.

“– but it’d be nice to know it’s coming.”

“I don’t do ‘nice.’” He flashes her a smile that’s all feral, and drinks from his teacup.  
   
So, he not only knocked her out cold and messed with her mind, he’s hit the tea tray while she was unconscious. She got one mouthful of tea at the Doctor’s. The thought of a cuppa sounds really good, so she makes her way very gingerly over to the tray on a side table. While she’s pouring, the Master remarks casually, “We’ve been invited to a ball tonight.”

Jade sets the pot down carefully and stands still for a moment. Finally she says, “I don’t dance,” and sugars her tea.

“Lady Saxon would, so you do. It’s time to encourage and expand the unrest among the locals, and this is exactly the place to do it.”

She pours the milk and stirs her tea while she thinks up, and rejects, gambit after gambit. She picks up a biscuit off the plate and chews it without really tasting it while she thinks and rejects some more. Coming to the conclusion that there’s no getting around it, she sighs. “I can’t dance.”

The Master looks up, the delight that he has something new to hold over her all over his face. “You’re halfway through your life-span, and you haven’t learned to dance?”

“I can rock with the best of ‘em, but country dances, waltzing, formal stuff? No. I’m a mechanic, dammit. Not in the curriculum, and not much call for it in my day-to-day, either.” She’s about to ask if he can either, then stops herself. Look at him – the body carriage, the bullion-on-black-velvet, the hair and beard, the mad crush on a college roommate. Of course he can dance.

“Well then, you’d better learn.” He’s smirking again.

“Before… what? Eight tonight?”

“See this?” he says in the voice one uses to explain the obvious to a child, pointing to the clock. “It’s a time machine. We can go out into the Vortex, take as long as you need to learn, and be back before that pot of tea is cold.”

Jade glares. The Master smiles benignly. She’s not happy. He’s not changing his mind.

“Fine, but I’m bringing snacks,” she mutters, snatching up the plate of biscuits. “We’re apt to be out there a while. And I hope you have steel-toed dancing slippers, Time Lord. You’re gonna need ‘em.”


	7. Lucky Number Too!

Jade is hiding.  She’s perched on a rather delicate-looking chair between two potted mock-orange trees against a wall, not exactly shielded from view, but definitely not on display, either.  Oh, if the Master accuses her of it, she’ll simply say she was eavesdropping, gathering intell.  And if one of the locals attending this ball should inquire, she’ll murmur something about being quite out-of-breath and warm because there is simply a crush here, isn’t there, and would the kind gentleman please find her a glass of something cool?

But between you and me… she’s hiding.

Yes, she learned to dance.  The Master can be quite insistent, and his teaching methods aren’t always the most pleasant.  Maybe the less said about that, the better.  Jade can now waltz and do a box step with reasonable grace, which gets her through most of the music here.  She has a set of excuses should anyone ask her for anything else.

She has danced a few times – mostly with the men the Master is aiming his scam towards, looking to find cracks in his story or evidence of an Alliance scheme to draw out unrest and do away with it.   Then there were a couple of the local self-proclaimed Lotharios, seeing if they could add an off-world titled lady to their list of conquests, especially since she was older and a bit plain and would probably be quite grateful.  The former set got lots of charm and no new information from her; the latter got quick, painful lessons in not making assumptions when they tried to push things too far.

I’d like to tell you the Master left her just after they hit the door.  She’d have been much happier that way.  But no, he had to haul her out for the first waltz.  When she complained, he said they were announcing their presence at the party, so that anyone who wanted to fall into the trap knew where to find either of them.  She remarked that it was more like showing off how you’d just taught your dog to sit up and shake hands.  He grinned evilly at her and replied, “Next I’ll teach you to fetch,” then swept her through a reverse before she could move close enough to tread on his toes.

Now she’s worked her way through their chosen marks, it’s a lot later on her body clock than it is planet-time because of the Vortex-hidden dancing lesson and she’s tired, so she’s hiding.  She leans her head back against the wall behind her chair and closes her eyes, wishing she was enough of a telepath to throw up a nice little “I’m not here, you don’t really see me” field.

“Would you care to dance, Jade?”

Well, hell.  She opens her eyes to find the Doctor standing in front of her, one hand held out to help her up from her chair.  Refusing him will lead to a nice conversation right where they are, which really ruins the whole idea of a hidey-hole, so she takes his offered hand and walks with him to the dance floor.

Oh look, the Doctor can dance, too.  In fact, dancing with him feels exactly like dancing with… well, that would figure now, wouldn’t it?  Bet he learned at the same hands that she just did.  Jade tries to picture it: two lanky adolescent males, an empty dance studio, the late afternoon light from twin suns slanting through windows and casting double shadows on the floor, a recording of a waltz echoing off the hard surfaces of mirror and wood.  “Oh honestly, you can do temporal dynamics in your head but you can’t count to three?”  “I don’t see why I need to learn this.”  “Everybody should know how to do this, even if most of them don’t.  Besides, I need someone to practice with.”  “It’s harder backwards!”  “When you quit stepping on me, I’ll let you lead.”  No telling what the two of them looked like in their original bodies, but she knows damn well who was teaching whom.  She smiles at the thought and distracted, trips over the Doctor’s toes.  
   
“Oh  Jade... you can recalibrate a dimensional stabilizer without a computer, but you can’t count to three?”

There – bet he first heard that from the same place she did.  Jade tilts her chin up and does her best imitation of the Master looking down his nose at someone taller.  “It’s harder backwards.  But I think you know that.”

The Doctor has the good grace to blush.  The music ends, and he tucks her hand into his arm before she can make her escape.  He heads for the open balcony French doors and she has no choice but to go with him.

“So, how did you get in here, anyway?  This is a pretty exclusive little ‘do,” she asks.

The Doctor just smiles smugly and reaches into his pocket for a key on a lanyard.  “Portable perception filter.  Doesn’t exactly make one invisible, but it does give off the impression that you’re not anything to worry about, maybe not even there.”  He tucks it back away and pats the pocket.

“I was just wishing for a gadget like that when you found me,” sighs Jade.

“I see you’re still wearing a gadget of your own.”  The Doctor reaches for the jade cat at her neck.

She grabs his wrist right before he can touch it.  “He says it’s pressure-sensitive.”

“Ah.”  When Jade lets go, the Doctor holds his hand just above the pendant.  “It’s more than just a location transmitter.  There’s a telepathic field…”  
   
“That figures.  It probably screams at him if I’m thinking mutinous thoughts or some such.  I thought there had to be more to it when he went to pains to see that I couldn’t take it off.”  Jade sighs and rolls her eyes.

“No, you think mutinous thoughts all the time.  It tells me when someone with major telepathic skills gets very close to you.” Jade jumps a bit at the Master’s voice, coming from right behind her.  “For example, a Time Lord.”  The Master steps up to her side and grabs the same wrist of the Doctor’s that Jade just let go.  He and the Doctor glare at each other for a minute, then the Doctor yanks free of his grip.

The Master turns back to Jade with a feral smile.  “See, pet?  I said I’d teach you to fetch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did the Doctor's dance lesson go? See [ _Dancing Lesson._](http://archiveofourown.org/works/56410)


	8. Behind the Too! Ball

It’s not quite one in the morning, and Lord and Lady Saxon are standing in their back garden, wearing formal dress.  A rectangle of light spills out of the open back door and down the garden walk behind them.  They’re facing away from the house, toward the bottom of the garden, and they appear to be… waiting.  Lady Saxon’s shivering a bit even though there’s a shawl wrapped around her bare shoulders.

The sound of a time rotor cuts the still night air, and the Doctor’s TARDIS materializes in a bottom corner of the garden.  When Jade starts towards it, the Master stops her with a black-gloved hand on her shoulder.  She glowers into the dark, but doesn’t pull away.

Opening the TARDIS door, the Doctor sticks his head out for a look-see.  When he spies the waiting pair, he starts toward them with a smile.  Stone-faced, the Master holds out the hand that isn’t holding onto Jade.  The Doctor sighs, returns to the TARDIS, comes back out carrying a gold cuff with jade insets, and drops it into the Master’s outstretched hand.

While the Master snaps the cuff back onto his wrist, the Doctor takes Jade’s hand, bows, and kisses it.  “You are quite the nicest homing beacon I’ve ever had,” he says, grinning.

“I think you’ll draw much less attention coming and going from here than from an alleyway in the market, even with a perception filter,” she replies.  “Turlough’s not the most discreet individual…”

“It’s late, girl,” interrupts the Master, glowering at the Doctor until he drops Jade’s hand.  “Get indoors.”

Jade turns and raises one eyebrow at the Master.  Time Lords sleep when it’s convenient or absolutely necessary for their health, so she knows damn well his observation has nothing to do with either the hour or being tired, and everything to do with separating her from the Doctor.  If he’d stop and think for 15 seconds, he’d know she’s had several chances to tell the Doctor everything or even to just leave with him, and she’s done neither.  But paranoia doesn’t do logic very well, it seems.  Ah well, she is tired.  Time and place, eh?

Turning back to the Doctor, she smiles and curtseys.  “Good night, Doctor.  Thank you for the dance.”  Not even acknowledging the Master, she walks into the house and shuts the door behind her.  Both Time Lords follow her progress.  
   
“There was no need for that,” says the Doctor to the Master’s back.  “She’s neither said nor done anything against you, and you treat her like she’ll turn coat the minute she’s not within reach.”

“She left _you_ with very little persuasion.”  The Master is still staring at the house, gloved hands clasped behind his back.

“She was never really with me,” the Doctor responds.  “She kept the TARDIS going while I was regeneration-sick.  And she left to limit the damage you wanted to do to me, which I imagine she felt was great deal of persuasion.”

A light comes on in a room on the upper floor of the house.  The Master smiles and answers wryly, “It _is_ just as easy to play upon her conscience as yours.  Odd, for a Time Agent.”

“_Former_ Time Agent.  I think the Agency didn’t care for her, but they don’t know what they’ve lost.  She’s loyal, she’s brave, and she’s intelligent.  It’s been a long, long time since I’ve had a traveling companion like that, and I was so ill while she was with me that I couldn’t appreciate it.  Really, you should treat her like a treasure, not a time-bomb,” the Doctor replies.

There’s a brief pause, then the Master says quietly, “I was promised such a traveling companion at the beginning of my life, but it didn’t happen.  You’ll have to forgive me if I seem a bit overly cautious of the one I’ve stumbled onto now.”

Night sounds fill in the halt in the conversation: the wind ruffling the grass, the surrounding buildings creaking as they cool. The light in the second-floor room goes out.  Finally, the Master turns back to the Doctor.  “What, no clever comeback?  No sage advice?  No righteous indignation?  Really, I did expect _something_.”  He steps closer with each question until they’re almost nose-to-nose.

The Doctor just stares down at the Master, his irises thin blue rings around pupils dilated by the night and emotion.  There’s a ruffle of feathers overhead and a surprised “squeak!” from the next garden as a night raptor captures its dinner.

The Master takes the Doctor’s face in one leather-clad hand.  “She is no replacement, and nothing – nothing! – toward what you owe me.  You’ll spend the rest of your regenerations paying that debt; I’ve used all of mine and I’ll still keep going, just to see that it happens.”

The Doctor reaches up and lays his hand over the Master’s, pressing until it’s cupping his cheek.  He leans into it, sighs “I know,” and closes his eyes.  After a moment he straightens up and tugs on that hand just enough to lead the Master into his TARDIS.


	9. Cat-o-Too!-Tales

Jade wakes to two sensations at once: the sound of pebbles rattling off her window, and a sharp pain on her breastbone where the jade cat lies against it, even though there is nothing pressing on it. Delightful. It’s not only a dog collar; it’s a dog _whistle_. Another handful of stones strikes the windowpanes. “Keep yer knickers on, Mister Evil,” she mutters to herself as she throws off the covers to get out of bed. It’s not yet sunrise.

Of course, if a couple of adolescent Gallifreyans had followed that advice almost a millennium ago, we wouldn’t have a story…

Throwing up the sash, she’s greeted by a cold pre-dawn breeze. “What?” she snarls as she leans out the window to look at the Master. She’s had maybe three hours of sleep and she’s not in the mood for his machinations at the moment.

He steps back a bit to ease the crick in his neck from looking up. “The back door is locked. Let me in, pet.”

Hmph. The self-proclaimed most intelligent member of the most powerful race in the universe, and he can’t remember to carry a key, or a lock-pick, or whatever the hell he’s been using to get into places he shouldn’t be, lo these many centuries. Jade snorts and shuts the window. Grabbing the sapphire-blue silk wrapper that matches her nightgown, she slips barefoot down the servants’ staircase to the kitchen.

No, that wasn’t a typo. She’s not wearing her worn-out pastel-striped terry robe. She’s not sleeping in her custom bedroom in the TARDIS either. Neither fits with being Lady Saxon. The bedroom thing pisses her off no end; the beds that came with the house, quite frankly, suck. But the nightwear set… It’s gorgeous. She raised her eyebrows and a bit of a stink when the Master handed it to her, but as far as she can tell it’s nothing but clothing, unlike the jade cat. She’d suspect his motives, if she didn’t know his, erm… affection? …attention? …lies elsewhere. She’s secretly quite pleased with the set, but she still grumbles about her “comfy bathrobe” occasionally just to keep up appearances.

She opens the backdoor and yawns, “You’re home early,” as he enters. Oh-ho, was that a flash of guilt on his face? Y’know, this is the second time she’s found him out-and-about while his erstwhile enemy / former best friend / occasional lover sleeps off the effects of their latest encounter. Jade decides to poke at him a bit. It’s the least she can do in return for being so rudely awakened from so little sleep.

“I wasn’t expecting you until after breakfast,” she continues, putting the kettle on. “And I was hoping breakfast would be another five or six hours from now.” She glances over at him while she rummages through the cupboards. He’s standing, arms braced against a counter, staring out the window into the dark garden with a slightly discontented look on his face, rather than the smug one from the first time they’d been in this situation. She’d make book he’s not seeing the view, nor hearing her words. Yup, the course of true love is not running smoothly in Time-Lord-Land. _Ta ma de_, and after all the crap she’s been pulling to get the two of them in the same time and place… No wonder their lot looms offspring. It’s too damn frustrating to try to _yenta_ this species.

Okay, time to use the big stick: “Do you always shag and scarper? Lousy way to maintain a relationship.” Jade leans back against the counter and crosses her arms, waiting for the insult to sink in and the consequences thereof. One, two…

The Master shakes his head and turns to glare at her. He opens his mouth, takes a deep breath, and she braces for the blast. She realizes just a little too late that a blue silk nightgown and wrapper is not really what she wants to be wearing as a small doll, and hopes like hell he doesn’t have the TCE on him.

Then his face goes from furious to blank. He exhales, shuts his mouth, turns back to the window, and says lowly, “He doesn’t handle the morning after well.”

Whoa… Not a supercilious “_I_ don’t do the morning after.” No sneering, no bragging, no telling her to mind her own damn business; just a quiet admission that his lover of 800 years (give or take) somehow can’t handle the idea. _Ai-ya._ Jade realizes she’s been standing there with her mouth open and pulls her jaw shut with an audible click of her teeth.

The quickest way to completely end any conversation with the Master would be to offer sympathy, so she quietly puzzles out an approach while she finishes the tea. She sets his mug down on the counter between his hands loudly enough to break his reverie. When he looks down at it, she asks, “Was he like this on Gallifrey, or just since you left it?”

“We’d long since left. I came after him on Earth – the first one – he’d been banished there. He was on his third body; I was on my last. We played our usual games. I rained terror, destruction, and death down on the planet – it was quite enjoyable. But when we got together… Well, perhaps he was just especially brusque and callous in that body. I learned very quickly that I did not want to be there when he woke up.”

Jade sits down at the table behind him. After a pause to think, she says, “It’s – two? – two bodies later and a lot of Vortex through the time rotor. Maybe he doesn’t feel quite the same way any more. You could try him again.”

The Master stretches out his neck by leaning his head from side to side. “Even I know the definition of insanity, girl,” he answers.

Well, no point in pushing it. Let him brood over the idea for a while. Evil broods so very well, donchaknow. “So, are we leaving, then?” she asks.

“What?” The Master turns around to stare at her, incredulous.

Jade takes a drink from her mug, careful not to look him in the eyes. “The Doctor knows where we are, and probably what we’re up to. You say he’s going to wake up today all righteous and a little pissy, and quite probably bound and determined to stop this little scheme right here and now. Have we caused enough trouble that you’ll be happy just knowing he’s got a hell of a mess to clean up trying to keep the war from starting? Or do you want to see if you can take this all the way to the bullets flying before he has us incarcerated, or worse?”

He continues to stare at her for a moment, and she can see him thinking. Then he barks out a sharp laugh. “Oh no, pet, I can cause a lot more damage than this before leaving becomes expedient.”

Apparently having his lover at the bottom of the garden outweighs any other concerns for the moment. Jade smiles behind her mug and answers, “Very well then, but I’m not up for causing any more havoc until I get some more sleep. G’night, Mister Evil.” She sets the mug by the sink and heads back up to bed.


	10. Nine, Too!, Begin Again

"Going out? Mind yourself, pet. We're almost there."

"Almost where, Mister Evil?"

"Almost to 'the bullets flying,' as you so picturesquely put it. And use my name, girl."

"Use mine, Time Lord. And thanks for the warning."

=======================================

Jade is walking down a street in the market when the overhead loudspeakers crackle to life: "Attention! Attention! Silence, please. _Bai-tuo, an-jing yi-dian._

"All persons should be advised that off-planet travel has been temporarily suspended. All vehicles with extra-atmosphere capability are now under lock-down until further notice."

As the message repeats in Mandarin, Jade adds to herself, "So you can just forget about runnin', suckers."

"At this time, the government requires all persons to return immediately to their registered place of residence. This is necessary for your own safety."

"…and so we can find your _pi gu_ if we want to arrest you," finishes Jade over the Mandarin version.

"Citizens are reminded that Alliance law requires them to comply with all orders and requests made by anyone in the Alliance forces. Thank you."

As the last line is spoken in Mandarin, an Alliance drop-carrier rumbles by overhead on its way to the spaceport. "Whoops, the party's gonna get ugly; the boss got a 'wave off-planet before the locals could take over," remarks Jade, watching it pass.

"Well, home is where the escape hatch is," she quips, and turns back for the house.

The streets are oddly quiet as she makes her way home. There are no birds calling, no dogs barking, no servants gossiping in back gardens. Jade thought once she heard the crackle of far-off gunfire, but she increased her pace so that the sound of her own footsteps echoing off the pavement drowned it out.

"Milady! I thought you were gone with Lord Saxon," exclaims the servant who meets her at the door. "What a day! What a mess! Troops all over the house, neither of you here, and the kitchen staff frightened half to death."

"Troops here? Lord Saxon gone?" Jade echoes as she hands the man her bonnet. Well yeah, the one would follow the other. Trust Mister Evil to smell trouble coming and scarper.

"Yes, milady. I could have sworn he was in the study, but when I took the captain there to find him, it was empty. They searched the whole house then, and made a right mess doing so. We've tried to clean a bit, but I'm afraid no one's made it upstairs yet. We'll be days straightening your wardrobes…"

"Don't worry about it, not important…" she murmurs as she heads for the study. So, is he just out-and-about, or is he 'gone' gone?

There's no grandfather clock against the wall in the study, just the painting of the brats and mutts staring at her. Oh, _zhe zhen shi ge kuai-le de jin-zhan…_ Why the hell is she always being abandoned in a war zone? "My karma really stinks," she mutters.

Standing in the door of the study, Jade's mind races, searching for a way out of this mess. If they want Lord Saxon and they don't find him, they'll be just as happy to make an example of Lady Saxon, no matter how little she had to do with anything. Time to lose the good milady then, and go back to being a simple mechanic. She can work on anything from a mule on up, which means sooner or later she'll find a berth on something space-going and blow this dry rock, presuming of course anything space-worthy survives this little dust-up to make it off the ground again. Except – _ta ma de_, her toolbox is in the Master's TARDIS! Great, she'll have to work on grounded stuff until she can afford new tools, or find some way to hack the planetary net and gank herself some credits. Well, she'll have to do that soonest anyway, to create a new identity. But first things first: she has to get the hell out of this house before the Alliance troops come back for another try at snagging those insurrection-provoking off-worlders, the Saxons.

Dashing upstairs, she skids to a halt in the door of her bedroom. The servant was spot-on: the place is wrecked. Every drawer has been dumped, and the contents of her wardrobe cover the floor and the bed. Well, it'll be easy to pack, not that she's taking much – just the basics and a couple of very plain outfits – nothing of Lady Saxon's. "Except my blue nightgown and wrapper," murmurs Jade to herself. After all, they are quite the nicest she's ever owned. And they were a gift. Sentimental much, Jade? Sap. He just ditched you to save his own ass. She digs through the mess on the floor until she finds them, then grabs a nearby carpetbag and starts stuffing things in it.

As she works her way toward where her undergarments landed – "Probably pawed through them too, the filthy-minded bastards," she mutters – Jade happens to glance out the window, and freezes in place. There, sitting at the bottom of the garden, is the big blue answer to nearly all her problems. Please, Rassilon, just let him be at home, and please, _please_ let him take her in.

"There's a warrant out for your arrest, you know," says the Doctor, grinning at the rain-soaked human standing just outside his TARDIS door. The heavens opened up just as she came running down the garden walk, dashing out the back door just as Alliance troops began once again beating down the front one. She'd raised a similar tattoo on the TARDIS's.

"Happens, sometimes," Jade puffs, out of breath. She can't quite manage an answering smile. Something about running in the rain from armored troops has left her less than happy with the situation. "May I come in?"

"And be accused of harboring a fugitive?" he replies conversationally, standing aside to let her pass nonetheless.

"Wouldn't be the first time, I think," she quips back, staring pointedly at Turlough. Funny, he blushes several shades darker than his hair color. Heh.

"Your room should be right where you left it, unless the dimensional stabilizer's on the fritz again. Go get dry – stop dripping on my floors." The Doctor is staring out the TARDIS door, noticing the commotion inside the house. "Whoops, time to go I think," he says and dashes over to the console. He slams the front door lever down, flips a couple of switches and cranks a dial over, and the column in the middle of the console starts pumping.

An Alliance troop captain does a double take, staring out the kitchen window for a moment at a spot in the garden where he could have sworn he just saw, from the corner of his eye, a big blue shed flicker out of sight. Shaking his head, he turns back to his argument with the cook and the butler. "I'm certain they haven't just dashed off leaving all their possessions, and all ships are grounded. Now, you can tell us where they said they were going, or we can talk about this down at headquarters…"

Concurrent with the sound of a TARDIS dematerializing is the sound of another materializing, and then there's an ordinary-looking potting shed just in front of where the strange blue shed used to be. The door to the potting shed opens, and the Master leans out.

"Girl? Girl? Jade!" he calls, looking around. "The locator had her right here. Pets are really more trouble…" he mutters.

Suddenly he realizes what's missing from the scenery, and smiles. The location device may not work while Jade's inside a TARDIS, but he knows he now has the leverage necessary to make his TARDIS follow the Doctor's: she'll want her mechanic back. The shed door closes, and the sound of a time rotor echoes through the garden for the last time.


	11. Epilogue and Prologue

"Now then, Turlough, where shall we go next?"  The Doctor stands at the console, hands poised over levers and dials.

"You keep promising the Eye of Orion, but we never seem to get there," replies Turlough, not looking up from the colors he is adding to a sketch.  "Frankly I don't much care, as long as it's peaceful.  I've had quite enough of crowds for a while."

"You're not going back to Persephone?"  Jade appears in the doorway, wearing dry clothes and rubbing her hair with a towel.  "I thought sure you wouldn't let that artificially-created war continue."

The Doctor works his way around the console, arranging settings.  "There won't be any war," he announces without looking up.

"It certainly looked like one was starting when we left."  Jade leans against the door jam, towel in one hand at her side.  'Uh-hmm'-ing and nodding in agreement, Turlough continues coloring.

The Doctor peers at her around the central column.  "No, that was the established government cracking down on known dissidents," he replies, and throws a lever hard over.  The TARDIS buckles to one side, but all three of her occupants are braced for it and have to do no more than shift their stance.  "It seems they got notice of an impending _coup_, and decided to take a couple of pre-emptive steps to prevent a takeover attempt."  Everyone shifts back as the flight levels out.

Tilting her head to one side, Jade thinks a bit.  "Hmmm.  Since the Master was holding out for a nice bloody battle, I'm guessing the Alliance got their information from you."  When the Doctor smiles in acknowledgment, she continues, "Congratulations.  That was quite sneaky." 

The Doctor's smile fades quickly.  "Yes, well, can't have people dying just because a couple of troublemakers decided to put their oar in," he announces and glares at her.  Turlough, sensing a tiff, looks up brightly from his work.

Standing up straight, Jade raises both hands in mock surrender.  "Like I could have stopped him!  I was just playing along; I did nothing but a little computer hacking.  It's called 'staying alive while in the enemy's hands,' Doctor."

Look at that – Jade's learned how to play on the Doctor's guilt.  Turlough ducks his head to hide a smile; he's been playing that game from the beginning.  It's rather easy, really.

The Doctor walks over to her and tilts her chin up with one finger so he can look in her eyes.  Goodness, she is a short thing.  "You're away from him now, and quite safe."  Dropping her chin, he starts feeling around in his jacket pockets, a distracted look on his face.  "We just need to get you out of that necklace and you'll be completely free of him.  Now, where did I put my sonic screwdriver?"

Looking away, Jade clears her throat as if embarrassed.  "Um… no."

"No?  'No' what?  No, you won't be free?  Yes you will.  You have my word."  The Doctor's face brightens as he pulls the tool from the depths of a pocket.  He hasn't been using it this regeneration; he thought perhaps he'd have to go find his old overcoat in the wardrobe.  
   
"He got inside my head once, so you'd better do a damned thorough search in there before you go making sweeping pronouncements like that.  But the 'no' really was… No, leave the necklace alone."

The Doctor stops fiddling with the settings on the screwdriver, and stares at her for a minute.  Then he says, "_Really_, Jade.  It is a lovely piece of carving, but it's a homing beacon!  The minute you set foot outside the TARDIS, he'll pick up the signal."

"Good."  Jade crosses her arms and stares down at the floor with a sullen look on her face.  The Doctor goes from stare to full-out goggle; Turlough joins him.  Just when the Doctor's ready to make some remark concerning Stockholm Syndrome she looks back up at him with a glare and announces, "He's got my toolbox, and I want it back."

The saga *snort* continues in Three for Mary Sue.


End file.
